


Distraction

by 0LaunaAlvara0



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 15:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0LaunaAlvara0/pseuds/0LaunaAlvara0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas has Martin to thank for staying sober.</p><p>But Martin will never know......</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Douglas

The first time it happens is in a bar in New York.

It had been a rough day, a terrible flight and a phone call from an irate ex-wife was just about all the incentive he needed to feel the solace that could only be found at the bottom of a glass.

Douglas is just about to order a large whisky from the barman as he hears a commotion to the left of him and turns to realise that Martin, towered over by a large man in a baseball cap, is stuttering apologies and turning such a vivid shade of red he might actually spontaneously combust at any given moment.

Douglas sighs in a put upon way, holds a hand up to the barman in a ‘just a moment’ fashion and strides his way over to rescue Martin from whatever mess he appears to have got himself into now.

Later that night, lying in the dark, Douglas silently thanks Martin for really being the one to save him, from falling off the wagon for the first time in 9 years. The moment, thank goodness, has passed.

-oOo-

The second time he’s at home.

He’s not exactly sure what has triggered it this time. It had been a good day, the flight went well and there was no phone call. Perhaps that was the problem.

Just one, it was only one. Even Douglas didn’t really believe that. He wasn’t dumb. But the thought of that sweet liquid warming his throat as it carried away the troubles he could no longer recognise was just too strong a pull. Even for someone as strong as him.

The glass is mere inches from his lips when his mobile rings and from the caller ID he can see its Martin’s number. He could ignore it, he could turn the phone off, but the simple truth is that Martin never calls. Not when Douglas is at home. What kind of dire emergency would make Martin call him at 11pm?

Putting the glass back down he answers it.

“Douglas?” says the uncertain voice at the end of the line.

“You were hoping for someone else?” Douglas forces the sarcastic tone into his voice, knowing it will be enough to fool Martin.

“N-n-no....I....uh....are you busy?”

 “As it happens, yes. Did you want something Martin?” He can’t hide the annoyance in his voice. It isn’t aimed at Martin.

“S-s-sorry. My....uh....my van has broken down and I’m.....well I’m stuck. I know it’s a huge inconvenience, but do you think that....well.....would you be able to give me a lift home? I don’t know who else to ask.”

He can hear the pride prickling in Martin’s voice and he knows how hard it must have been for Martin to dial his number, of all people. Normally, he’d take great delight in making the man squirm as much as possible before inevitably coming to his rescue as he intended all along. But tonight he is just too damned tired to play the game.

“Where are you?” He sighs, before establishing Martin’s location, telling him he’ll be ten minutes and hanging up the phone.

He pauses as he reaches the front door, hand already on the handle. He thinks for a moment, realising the opportunity he now has. Turning swiftly he strides back to the kitchen table, picks up the still full glass and open bottle and pours them down the sink resolutely.

The moment has passed, again.

-oOo-

By the seventh time, Douglas has started to notice the pattern.

Seven times he has come incredibly close to falling off the wagon, and seven times Martin, in some way or another, has inadvertently saved the day. Even Douglas can’t help but chuckle at the thought of his prickly, fussy, slightly inept Captain singlehandedly keeping him on the straight and narrow.

It’s uncanny really. Every time Douglas reaches for the bottle, Martin somehow manages to conjure up a crisis. If Douglas didn’t know better he’d swear Martin _knew._ But he pushes away the thought with a snigger. This is _Martin_ after all.

Douglas is grateful, more than Martin will ever know. Mainly because Douglas will never admit it.

-oOo-

It’s the eleventh time Douglas has nearly fallen off the wagon.

Martin hasn’t called.

Douglas is sitting at his kitchen table with a heavy glass of amber liquid in his hand, floating tempting centimetres from his parched lips.

Martin hasn’t called.

The lure is getting too much, even for Douglas.

Martin hasn’t called.

As the cold of the glass presses against his bottom lip, a vision of Martin’s face floats in front of him unbidden, his expression somewhere between a mixture of admiration, condemnation and, this is the killer, disappointed.

Douglas lets his hand fall to the table in front of him, the contents of his glass spilling everywhere, but not a single drop passing his lips.

Martin doesn’t need to call.

-oOo-

It happened so incrementally that Douglas didn’t even notice.

Now whenever the bite of addiction begins to fill his head and Martin doesn’t magically appear, all he has to do is close his eyes and picture his young Captain’s disappointed face. It’s enough. It’s become enough.

Of course, Martin still has the odd crisis, he still needs Douglas’ help occasionally. Some things will never change.

But Douglas knows that Martin is saving his life. That without knowing it, Martin has somehow become his saviour. Douglas is more grateful than Martin will ever know. Because Douglas will never tell him.


	2. Martin

 

The first time was a fluke.

He hadn’t noticed the signs, because he hadn’t been looking for them.

But as he’d watched Douglas at the bar, he had the overwhelming feeling that something wasn’t right. Douglas was going to order a drink. He was sure of it. He had started to panic, unsure what to do.

And then the big American guy in the baseball cap had accidently bumped into him.

It was fate.

-oOo-

The second time was no fluke.

Something had been off with Douglas all day, he hadn’t even noticed Martin tail him home and watch as he called into the off-licence.  

The van was temperamental at the best of times, and Martin knew exactly which wire needed pulling out to kill the ignition. It’s not like Douglas would check. Picking up his mobile he dialled the number, hoping he’d calculated the time right.

“Douglas?”  
  


-oOo-

 

Martin learned to read the signs. He knew instinctively when the likely times were. Sometimes he got it wrong and Douglas was fine, but that only worked in his favour. Made it look genuine. He was pretty sure that he hadn’t _missed_ a time, but he couldn’t be certain.

For his part Douglas never seemed to suspect anything. But then, Martin knew it unlikely that Douglas would ever give him that much credit.

It didn’t matter.

Martin knew that he was helping to keep a friend off the bottle, and he’d keep doing it as long as Douglas needed him too.

Not that Douglas would ever know. Martin would never tell him.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a prompt on the CP prompt meme.


End file.
